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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27683285">Wrong and alright</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoseWithoutAName/pseuds/TheRoseWithoutAName'>TheRoseWithoutAName</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gunshot Wounds, Heavy Angst, Injured Sherlock Holmes, Injury, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Major Character Injury, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:21:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>994</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27683285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoseWithoutAName/pseuds/TheRoseWithoutAName</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He wants to have just one peaceful day. That's all he wants. One date that goes well. One date without Sherlock Holmes ruining it. He scared away precisely 27 women John tried to impress. He's done. There's no way he'll let him rule his life yet again. He's going to have a lovely evening with a gorgeous lady, and there's no way Sherlock Holmes can stop him. Not even if he promises a dangerous case. Not this time.<br/>He'll have to cope without him. He'll be fine on his own. It's not like he needs him there anyway, right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wrong and alright</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The following story is fictional. The characters belong to Sherlock BBC and their original inspirational world to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. It's a fanfiction, the story may differ from the canon. I don't earn money from my writings, and they only ever have an entertainment purpose.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The date starts well. They have dinner at a restaurant. The cuisine is Lebanese. John couldn't bear to go for Italian. Or Chinese. Or Indian. Damn it, all of those reminded him of his lanky best friend way too much. His thoughts kept running back to Angelo, back to the Study in Pink, they're first case. Always back to the detective.</p><p>Well, not today. Today he will enjoy the evening with a lovely lady. She's petite, her hair is blonde, and she has a very nice smile. She laughs a lot. She seems kind and easygoing. A complete opposite of his flatmate. Who texts him three times before John switches his phone off.</p><p>Not today, no.</p><p>_____________________________________________________________________________</p><p>"John! Hurry up, we have a case! A 7 at least!"</p><p>"Nope. You have a case. I have a date."</p><p>"Cancel it. 7, John! Could turn out to be an 8. Christmas is coming early this year."</p><p>"No." repeats the doctor and Sherlock's brows do a funny thing as he frowns, half-way confused puppy, half-way a sulking three-years-old. "I'm not going with you. You'll have to manage, I'm sorry. It's not like you need me there much, anyway."</p><p>"Could be dangerous."</p><p>"Not falling for that, either. You've ruined exactly 27 of my dates by now. Not this one."</p><p>"But John! Come on. Seriously? You'll rather spend your evening listening to another boring woman when there's a murderer on the loose? She has five cats, secret tattoo and she bakes her own bread. Boring. She'll want domestic bliss, and you'll miss the adrenaline after four weeks with her. Save the trouble."</p><p>"How the hell do you even know that? Sod it. I don't care. I'm off to the restaurant. See you in a few hours. Or maybe in the morning. Don't drive Greg mad, alright?"</p><p>He leaves a stunned detective in the flat, whistling on his way to a beautiful woman—the door slams after him.</p><p>_____________________________________________________________________________</p><p>It's not until after the dinner that he notices the message. It's unintentional anyway. He switches his phone back on to check his calendar and plan another date with the funny girl smiling at him from across the table. She arches one eyebrow when he freezes.</p><p>"Something wrong?"</p><p>The screen is too bright and blinding, and the words on it make the ex-soldier cringe.</p><p>
  <em>Can't reach you. Call me when you can. I'm off to hospital with Sherlock. It's bad. He went after the suspect alone, not waiting for back up. Got himself shot in the chest. Afraid he might not make it. ~Lestrade</em>
</p><p>Everything is wrong, he thinks as he excuses himself and rushes out, Greg on the phone telling him which hospital they ended up at. The second date isn't planned.</p><p>_____________________________________________________________________________</p><p>"You know, bees can communicate without words. They understand without any sounds, really. They know how to work together without the need to tell each other what exactly do they need. Just like you and me." He brushes his fingers across the prominent knuckles of the cold hand squeezed gently in his."Except there are hundreds of them in the hive. With us, it's just you and me against the rest of the world, isn't it? It's supposed to be only you and me."</p><p>He blinks, and hot pearls of salt roll down his cheeks. The figure in the bed looks fragile, the pale, thin body vulnerable, hidden under the blanket. There's a breathing tube silencing the unshuttable man. This untameable force lies there, broken and quiet, and it's just so, so wrong.</p><p>"You like bees, don't you, Sherlock?"</p><p>His whisper is the only sound in the room—that, the annoying beeping and mechanical wheezing and rattling. It's scratching on his nerves, the ECG a high-pitched scream of could-have-been and each ventilator-forced breath making John feel ambivalent. It proves Sherlock is as dead as he is alive.</p><p>"God, I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I should have gone with you." He bends down and presses a soft kiss above the bony wrist, feeling the gentle humming of life beneath his lips, he closes his eyes and rests his forehead on the mattress, next to the man's hip." I'm so, so sorry. I'll never be able to forgive myself. But I don't matter, I'm just an ordinary, boring John Watson... You, Sherlock Holmes, are brilliant. You are. And you are needed. The world needs you, Sherlock. I need you. Please. I don't deserve a thing from you after leaving you alone like that, I know, but still. Do me a favour. A miracle for me. Please. I need you to wake up. Come back to me. I don't have to ever go on a date anymore. Ever. I won't. I promise. I'll let you stock eyeballs in our fridge, and you can do weird experiments in our oven and burn all my clothes. I don't give a damn. I won't even yell at you. Just please. Please, come back to me. Wake up, Sherlock. Wake up for me."</p><p>The anorectic digits that used to be elegant musician's fingers twitch in his palm and John gets up, staring at the still figure.</p><p>"Sherlock?"</p><p>The fingers twitch again... And then there are two turquoise eyes, wide open and confused.</p><p>"There you are. It's alright. You'll be alright. Thank you. I'll never leave your side again, I swear."</p><p>John is blubbering nonsense, and he's crying buckets and buckets, and he's smiling like a fool. Sherlock is blinking owlishly at him, but he lets him hold his hand. He holds his heart, after all.</p><p>_________________________________________________________________________________________________</p><p>There is a second date in the end. The date number 29, which is ironic, really, considering the date they met.</p><p>Angelo's is warm and cosy. There are no texts from Sherlock. John's phone is turned off yet again.</p><p>There's a tall, gorgeous figure sitting across from the doctor, smiling softly. His hand is clasped in his.</p><p>Everything will be alright.</p>
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